It is not Christmas eve no more
I wish it was Christmas always...

Time is a railway.
Now is the very trains that...

Standing on the opposite sides of a train station
we waved goodbye...

This fleshy ripen dome of fervor,
this bundle of rainbow and nectar...

In the name of Indian warriors
the first nation of truth...

Amongst the stretch and squeeze of the accordion
she and I...

Nothing exists as absolute,
in hardcore reality...

Centripetal and centrifugal,
two core of an oval mirror...

There was a little puppy
named Asskan...

You macerate me and
I create art...

The consumer is consumed
as consumption consummates...

He is so poor.
He has nothing yet honesty...